It's Been Hell
by Hestia01
Summary: "I'd like to say it's been fun, but honestly, it's been Hell" As they recover from their ordeal, Harry wonders if what Bob had told him was true. And the answer surprises him!


It's Been Hell

**I don't own the Dresden Files. If I did, the show would have lasted a lot longer and _this_ would have happened in canon!**

**Special thanks once again to my lovely assistant, Dawn, for beta'ing this. It was for you that I wrote this in past tense and didn't make it a frelling novel. You're welcome! :)**

**Read and review, share and enjoy!**

Bob loomed over Harry's shoulder as they examined a pot of bubbling goo. Their faces were inches from each other, and while both seemed intent on their work, beneath the surface their thoughts veered elsewhere.

"Hey, Bob, can I...can I ask you something about," Harry gulped, scratching the back of his neck, "about that time you were taken?"

Bob flinched, as the subject understandably made him ill. "What about it?"

"You said that living with me was Hell," Harry forced out anxiously. "Was that true?"

The ghost pursed his lips, crossing his arms over his chest as he paced around the lab. "In order to answer, I need to make a confession. I only hope it won't spoil anything." Bob's hands twitched as he pondered what he was about to say. _It could ruin everything...but perhaps...It doesn't matter; I can't keep it a secret like a perverted old fool._

"I did what I had to do. Everything I did was to keep up the act, to keep that rat off the scent. I hurt you...I know I hurt you and I'm sorry. I had no choice."

"I know, that, Bob. "

Raising a hand, the old sorcerer silenced his protégé . "Please, it will be easier if you don't interrupt. I don't think I can start up again if I stop." To this, Harry made a motion of zipping his lips and throwing away a key. With his usual sneer, Bob had to inform him, "That made absolutely no sense. You do realize that, don't you? Anyway..." He heaved a frustrated sigh and resumed pacing. "Where was I? Oh yes. You arrived at Morningway Estate to rescue me. Home, sweet home," he drawled in surly sarcasm. "You found me, and I knocked you out."

"Thanks for that, by the way," Harry groused, bringing a hand to his head. He then quailed beneath his mentor's gaze, falling silent again.

"I knocked you out," Bob continued guiltily. "And...I carried you to his car. Even in light of our 'newly reforged partnership', I wouldn't presume to sit in front with 'the master.'" His voice grew soft and far-away as he replayed that fateful night. "I held your head and shoulders in my lap. You were...curled up like a baby, and I held you. Held you..." he repeated dreamily in a sing-song voice. "You have no idea how hard it was to keep a neutral expression. If that...creature realized, it would have all been lost. But for fifteen minutes as he drove us to the morgue, I held you. We could have driven like that all night if I had anything to say about it. What happened after, well, I got rather bold. Self-indulgent, actually. Well, you can imagine my impulse control." He twisted his face into a cross between a grin and a grimace. "We got you to the morgue. The doppelganger went to check the area while I secured you."

"Tied me," Harry corrected.

"I tied you," Bob nodded. "First, your hands. I'd been tempted to leave it loose, to help you escape, but that would have put both of our necks on the line. So, I just touched your hands, held them. I even brought them up to my face. You don't know how much I wanted that. Just to feel your hands on my face. It was wonderful. How I've craved basic human contact, namely from you." He turned to gaze fondly at the wizard. Harry was taking the confession surprisingly well. He listened with an astonished expression, but didn't look repulsed or bothered by it. He looked down at his hands, then back at his friend.

"There's more. What can I say? I'm weak...and let's face it, I _have_ no impulse control. Before gagging you...I really shouldn't have done this. In retrospect it was far too risky. Any of it was far too risky."

With raised eyebrows, Harry brought a hand to his mouth, guessing what Bob had done while he was unconscious. Through their eye-contact, Bob realized that he really didn't need to finish the story.

"Yes. I'm afraid so. I couldn't resist. I wish it had been under better circumstances, but I kissed you. I _kissed_ you," he confessed with relish. He held such a blissful expression at the memory, reliving it as long as he could. "Then! Oh, then...I was sure that the game was up. The doppelganger came back. That was when I was certain all was lost. He saw me bent over you. I had to think fast. I straightened up, gave him a winning smile and said, 'Let's see him get the taste of _that _out of his mouth,' before tying the gag in place. He just laughed and told me I was weird. By gods I was relieved! I nearly kissed you again because I got away with it!"

Harry laughed shortly, still with his hand to his lips, waiting patiently for Bob to answer his question at last. It's not the answer he expected to hear.

"What I said was true: it's been Hell...but not in the way it sounded. I wish I could have tipped you off, given you some clue that I was always on your side. I was too closely watched, though, by then. Even a nudge or a wink or small gesture of any sort would have been a dead giveaway. Fooling the doppelganger was one thing, but fooling Justin Morningway was another, and I had to be ready for him. I needed you to be convinced that I'd gone over. I couldn't count on your ability to playact your way out of it. One of us improvising was dangerous enough, two would have been disastrous. I needed a genuine reaction, and you gave me one! That's what cemented the madman's trust, to his ruination. I...needed you to despair, and I knew that betrayal like that would do it. I certainly would have despaired had our positions been reversed. If I'd thought you would turn against me so easily, after all we've been through together. What I said was true, in its own way. I was always taught that Hell was being separated from those you love." Bob gazed soulfully at his friend, bringing his face up next to his, and whispered, "And I _am_ separated from you. Always. I see you every day, talk to you every hour, but I miss you. Painfully. It's unendurable, I tell you!" Tears were in the ghost's eyes as he laid his heart bare for the man. Bob seemed past caring about how Harry was going to react. "I want to be _near _you, I want to show you, to _love_ you! I would gladly be yours, if you would have me, if we could. It's been Hell, but...it's also been as close to Heaven as I'm allowed to reach. As miserable as it is to be separated from you..." Bob emphasized this by nearly brushing his cheek against Harry's. "...you've made me happier than I've ever been, for all your tomfoolery and scarecrow-like fashion-sense."

"God, Bob..." Harry wiped his eyes. He'd never dreamed that his oldest friend—in every sense of the word—would return his feelings, let alone act on them! Over the years, he'd felt almost ashamed of them, lusting after his ghost for all this time! He felt such great relief, knowing that his best friend never hated or resented him, that they'd always been back to back and shoulder to shoulder with each other, that they and always would be. Then he realized he hadn't said anything sensible to Bob's confession. Bob was skulking back in a corner, looking like he was trying not to cry. Harry stood up and approached him. He mimicked the gesture Bob had just made, like he was pressing a cheek to him. Like he was about to cuddle close. "I love you, too, Bob," the wizard whispered. "We didn't have much, and I wish I'd been awake for it," he added with a dry chuckle, "But I'm glad. You're brave. And I want you to know I understand. I miss you, too, every day. But you know, at the risk of being cliché, you're always with me." Patting his heart for emphasis, he carried on, "You shot your own life force into me as well as what you'd drained from me before. Now I've got a piece of your soul all my own. And green's my favorite color," he murmurs.

Bob smiled, dreamily sentimental. "I'd almost forgotten what color I really was." He looked at his hands, remembering the powerful light he'd channeled, how marvelous it had felt. In his finest moment he'd been a wild beast defending his mate. Switching back to practicality for a moment, Bob admits, "I do like your staff, Harry. I know I made fun of you before for using a hockey stick, but it was very well-tuned." He sighs at the thought of part of himself nestled against Harry's soul forever and ever. "It was worth it. It was worth dying all over again, with your arms around me. Oh, Harry...I'd give anything in the world..."

"Shh. No more talk. We have this. We have each other. It's not a lot, but it's more than either of us probably deserves. Let's get back to work."


End file.
